Time flies so quickly. She remembered it was around this same season when she first arrived in this world.
She wondered how Lu Xun and Song Qingying were progressing in places beyond her sight.
When Jiang Qiao curiously asked about it, 166 firmly refused to disclose anything.
On October 1st, when school was closed, the study rooms and library remained open for senior high students, and many went there to study.
Jiang Qiao stayed home watching movies, eventually dozing off. By the time she woke up, it was already afternoon.
After a quick tidy-up, she decided to go out for a meal. Having tried all the restaurants near the villa district, the family driver dropped her off downtown. Jiang Qiao got out of the car and headed straight for the mall, making her way to the third-floor dining area.
As soon as she reached the third floor, she heard a commotion.
“This shirt is a designer brand, worth tens of thousands! Tell me, how are you going to compensate me?” The man’s tone was arrogant.
“But it was you who—”
Jiang Qiao didn’t catch the rest, but the familiar voice made her stop and look over.
To her surprise, it was Song Qingying.
…What was going on?
Song Qingying stood in the crowd, dressed in a server’s uniform, her delicate face flushed with embarrassment and anxiety.
Across from her, a short, stout middle-aged man had fresh stains on his clothes. He held his head high, refusing to back down, and even reached out to grab her as he spoke.
Song Qingying hastily stepped back, avoiding his grasp. She never expected that taking a part-time job during the break would land her in such a predicament with a scoundrel.
Having failed to take advantage of her, he deliberately soiled his clothes to make things difficult for her.
Many diners had gathered around, and the middle-aged man grew even more brazen. “What do you mean? If you break something, you pay for it. Since you’re just a young girl, I won’t ask for much—just twenty thousand will do.”
Twenty thousand…
Song Qingying’s face turned pale, clearly terrified.
Seeing that he had achieved his goal, the man couldn’t resist rubbing his hands together. Just as he was about to lower his voice and say something, the collar of his shirt was yanked backward forcefully. A lazy female voice sounded from behind him, “Uncle, what era do you think this is? Trying to pull this old trick? Extortion is illegal, you know.”
Jiang Qiao withdrew her hand and disdainfully wiped it with a tissue.
The man’s expression shifted at her words. Before he could muster a greasy smile upon seeing her appearance, her contemptuous gesture left him humiliated, his face shifting through a series of dramatic expressions.
“What extortion? I wasn’t born yesterday. If you break something, you pay for it—that’s only right.”
“Brother,” my foot. Shameless old man.
Jiang Qiao rolled her eyes. “Fine, if you want compensation, let’s check the surveillance footage and see who started it.”
Her tone was dripping with scorn. “A lousy shirt costing twenty thousand? Show me the receipt. I’ll reimburse you.”
The middle-aged man, who had bought the counterfeit shirt for a little over a hundred at the mall, naturally had no receipt.
Jiang Qiao carried an air of elegance and was dressed well, clearly a child from a wealthy family. Already feeling guilty, the man grew flustered at the mention of surveillance footage and receipts. In a fit of anger, he spat out, “Consider myself unlucky,” and hurried away, abandoning his demand for compensation.
As the onlookers dispersed, Song Qingying, never expecting Jiang Qiao—who usually exchanged harsh words with her—to come to her aid, whispered softly, “Thank you.”
“Who needs your thanks?” Jiang Qiao was as sharp-tongued as ever. “I just couldn’t stand that old man. I wasn’t trying to help you. And besides—”
She glared maliciously at Song Qingying. “You’re really quite foolish. If you’re this stupid, you should focus on studying instead of constantly thinking about romance and love.”
After delivering her warning, Jiang Qiao turned and walked away, radiating arrogance and satisfaction.
The middle-aged man who had inexplicably picked a fight, Jiang Qiao who coincidentally appeared and effortlessly dismissed the trouble with just a few words, and her final warnings…
How could it all be such a coincidence?
Song Qingying stared at her retreating figure, her fingers gradually clenching, her delicate face momentarily contorted.
Jiang Qiao had no idea she was suspected of being the mastermind behind it all. Had she known, she would have cried injustice—after all, she specialized in being malicious, not in stirring up trouble out of boredom.
Jiang Qiao quickly forgot about this minor incident. She had been busy these past two days, as Lu Xun’s birthday was less than forty-eight hours away.
Although Lu Xun didn’t care about his own birthday, she was magnanimous enough not to hold it against him. Those who are favored can afford to be reckless—after all, “Jiang Qiao” was infatuated with Lu Xun’s face.
Last year for his birthday, she had gifted him a limited edition watch, which Lu Xun hadn’t even bothered to accept.
This year, Jiang Qiao decided to change her approach. Instead of relying on monetary attacks, she would wield sincerity as her ultimate weapon.
As someone with notoriously clumsy hands, she holed up in her room struggling to complete the gift, only realizing afterward that the sun had already set outside.
She carefully packaged the present, hurried downstairs, and asked the driver to bring the car around.
It was a public holiday, and the café was busier than usual. During his break, Lu Xun quickly finished his dinner when his phone buzzed—a text from Jiang Qiao asking where he was.
Lu Xun glanced at it and replied, “At home.” Just then, an order of coffee was ready. He set his phone aside to deliver it to the customer.
By the time he finished work, two hours had passed. His replacement arrived, and he packed up to head home.
On his way, the manager of Red Pavilion transferred his final paycheck and expressed regret over his resignation, encouraging him to focus on preparing for the college entrance exams.
Lu Xun was grateful to the manager and replied, “Thank you.”
He pedaled his bicycle into the old, narrow alley. A few scattered lights glowed from the houses on either side. The cramped cement road was riddled with potholes, and tangled electrical wires crisscrossed overhead. The air carried the damp, sweet scent of osmanthus flowers.
The closer he got to his home, the worse the soundproofing became. Lu Xun stopped riding and instead pushed his bicycle along. A few seconds later, he halted.
Faint, yellowish light spilled from the window of the house across the way, stretching the shadow of a girl crouched by the wall into a long silhouette.
The girl was hunched over, holding something as she idly traced patterns on the ground.
The screech of his bicycle brakes startled the small, huddled figure. Recognizing Lu Xun, she immediately dropped what she was holding and stood up, stumbling slightly as her legs had gone numb. “Liar! You told me you were at home!” she cried out, her voice tinged with grievance and a hint of coquettish anger.
Her eyes were red-rimmed. Her white dress had a noticeable stain, as if it had brushed against something dirty. Her slender, pale legs trembled slightly, and her white canvas shoes were smudged with grime.
She looked like a white ragdoll cat in distress.
Following his gaze, Jiang Qiao noticed the stains on her dress and shoes. Embarrassed, her cheeks flushed. “This is all your fault! What kind of rundown place do you live in anyway…?”
Her lips puckered in a pout as she tried to wipe the stains away, only making them worse. Frustrated, she began chattering nonstop: “All you ever think about is making money. You can’t even remember your own birthday! And here I rushed over to celebrate with you, worried you might have gone out with someone else…”
Her voice grew softer as she spoke, her head drooping lower, muffled and sullen: “And then, you lied to me, making me wait for over three hours for nothing. Lu Xun, you big liar, you did it on purpose, didn’t you…”